PSI traveled through the portal. Momentarily, his eyes closed as he breathed in the fresh air of the entrance.
He was still not sure what to do. Of course, even if the original author of the novel woke up in his shoes, he wouldn't deal with it perfectly as PSI did.
Still, the fact that he had no path greatly affected him. A path was a must for a wandering soul, as it determined where one could wander.
PSI murmured to himself,
"So then everything is as expected. I'm the last one… which means the divine show will begin as soon as I get in.
Not to mention that I'm an extra. It's such an extra pain for real. What the hell is going on now? How am I supposed to live as an extra with no path?
There are twenty-three paths. They will all have their followers in the divine show. As expected, I'm gonna be all alone. Maybe some will actually lend a hand, but as the Guidanceer warned me, not to join them.
They… they will definitely use me as a meat shield."
It seemed their bodies were made of illusions. Each part of his body felt real — and was real — since it had been linked to his soul.
At first, he thought souls didn't have to eat.
That was true. A soul doesn't eat.
But here, things were a bit different than the usual "souls don't eat" rule.
They eat.
It was designed to make it perfect as a human being, not a wandering soul.
All to make the test — the recap movie — feel more vivid and interesting to the gods.
Even though he was sure he already knew that they had never seen a pathless in their entire lifetime…
"…Guess I'm here."
The portal threw him straight into the sky. Clouds lay beneath him. Floating, he turned around to look at the ground.
As he turned, he began falling. The air was thick, the clouds vivid.
The wind passed through his clothes. The atmosphere was bright blue — it felt like he descended straight from a murim sky.
As soon as he reached the ground, he decelerated unnaturally. With a strange look, he gazed down.
There were twenty-three mountain cliffs, all covered in fog.
Even so, the cliffs were long enough to be called mountains on their own. Each mountain had equal distance between them, forming a perfect circle around him.
Behind each mountain face flowed a stair made of water, like rivers pouring endlessly toward the center.
What surprised him wasn't the mountains, nor the water stairs.
It was the people standing atop the mountains, gazing down with curiosity. Some faces were detached, others filled with hatred.
Each mountain represented a path.
000
0000 111
1111 222
14
2222 333
3333 444
4444 555
5555 666
6666 777
16 19
7777 888
8888 999
9999
In the center of the mountains stood the extra — the pathless.
PSI himself.
A Guidanceer's voice echoed across the peaks. With overlapping voices, they declared:
"Hear me, dear participants. It is unfortunate news that there is an extra with no path among us."
Shrouded in fog, they stood upon the clouds. As soon as those words were spoken, th
e leaders of each path stood.
Each Prime emitted an unbearable aura. Delusion energy flowed from their bodies, forming memories that had never existed in PSI's life.
His health was greatly affected. Everyone around him was backed by a god. Those unaware of the gods guiding their hands would inevitably deteriorate.
In the divine show, squads were rarely given numbers. Instead, they were given permanent tags.
There were twenty-three paths. Each path had exactly fifty participants.
Path 000 was tagged as A-SquAD. Participants were named A-Prime, A-2nd, A-3rd, and so on.
Path 9999, the final path, followed alphabetical order — the 20th letter — tagged as T-SQUAD, with T-PRIME as its leader.
Primes were chosen as squad leaders.
When the Twenty Paths were forged, four cracks appeared in the divine pattern. From those fractures emerged the Debtbound — lesser gods who did not guide, but hinder.
They were not creators, only collectors, demanding payment through suffering, loss, and ruin.
These were Thirteen, Sixteen, and Nineteen.
Each had fifty participants. Their influence was minor compared to the twenty true gods, but they still held power.
Their squads were:
14 — U-SQUAD
16 — V-SQUAD
19 — W-SQUAD
Each Prime stood at their mountain peak.
One Guidanceer whispered, his voice calm yet perfectly heard:
"Is there any path willing to accept this pathless young man?"
Murmurs erupted. Shameless voices took over. Laughter, smirks, mockery.
Suddenly, the Prime of 666 shouted,
"You must think you're dreaming, asshat. That's good — because you're gonna wake up in hell, lonely pathless."
They enjoyed looking down on him.
PSI felt no shame. No fear. Their humor didn't reach him.
He cleared his throat and looked at the Guidanceers.
They met his gaze coldly, then turned away.
The speaking Guidanceer raised his hand.
Silence fell instantly.
Unlike PSI, none of them knew about REBOOT or what lay beyond. To them, the Guidanceers were angels — beings enforced by illusion and psychological domination.
PSI grew bored of the harassment.
He shouted:
"Gods. Squads. The show. I reject them all.
I don't need you. I will walk alone if I must. It does not serve my highest good to join a path I was never signed to.
I will carve my own path with my bare hands."
Shock spread.
Silence crushed the air.
Why is he saying that?
Does he want to die?
Who is he?
Questions rose, but no one spoke.
The Guidanceer's hand remained raised.
Finally, he spoke:
"Then be it your way."
The divine stream officially began.
He raised both hands. Fireworks erupted across the mountains.
Mythic gods gathered in an instant. What they saw was only a trailer — a recap of what was to come.
Another Guidanceer smiled faintly at PSI.
"Since you are not joining any squad… you may form your own."
From this moment onward:
You are PSI-SQUAD.
And you are named — PSI-PRIME.